Possibility

Last year I made a phone call to my father after not speaking to him for nearly three years.  It went well at the time.  I forgave him for the abuse in my childhood.  However, few months later I found myself having a breakdown about it and I haven’t called him since.  Two steps forward, one step back.

I was talking with a friend yesterday about that, and he pointed out that having an amazing relationship with my father is automatically tied to the fact that I have already done the hard part of forgiving him.  I hadn’t really considered that until today.  And now I am feeling like that might be something that I want.

How do you move forward from a place like that?  How do I draw boundaries that will keep me safe, but maintain the openness that it will take to have a real relationship with my father?  How do navigate a positive relationship with my former abuser as a feminist trying to heal and let go of the past?

It’s really painful to be faced with the choice of either shutting my parents out because it’s too hard to have a relationship with them, or embarking on the possibility of being hurt all over again.  Of course, there’s a third possibility: that it will be different if I make it different with intention.  Either way, the bottom line is that I want more than just not talking to my parents in order to cope.

Ready, Set, Go!

Coconut oil: taken 20 min. before breakfast in pomegranate white tea, along with two capsules of high vitamin cod liver oil

Breakfast:

• two eggs fried in butter or coconut oil
• one piece of whole grain (sprouted) toast with butter or coconut oil
• half a grapefruit with coconut sprinkles
• one cup of whole raw milk or coconut milk tonic

I am sitting here eating my grapefruit with Coconut Sprinkles, having already finished my eggs, toast, and milk. But before I ate anything I took my two tablespoons of coconut oil.

As you will recall, one of the methods of this weight loss plan is to take two tablespoons of coconut oil 20 minutes before each meal. If I was braver I would have just taken them off the spoon, but I am a squeamish sort. I took the author's recommendation from Eat Fat, Lose Fat and drank my coconut oil. I have a pomegranate white tea that I like, so I used that pink concoction as a vehicle for my coconut oil this morning before I shuttled M off to preschool.

I woke up this morning looking and feeling different. I can tell that it is the right time for me to take on this weight loss goal. I feel energized. I feel capable. I am excited. In fact, I had a good omen as I made the eggs this morning: one of them came out as a double yolk. That's never happened to me before. I think it is significant that my first breakfast became a little bit magical.

I have struggled for years to gain a healthy relationship with my body and my body image. As many of you readers know, I was raised by abusive parents. My dad sexually abused me, which has really done a number on my sexuality. I have steadily gained healthier ways of seeing myself. My mom, being a severe emotional abuser, criticized how I looked and what I ate as I grew up. So I have also struggled with how I see food as an enemy or an ally.

I am to a place where I simply see food as food. I am noticing how fast or slow I eat, and why. I am noticing my connection to food in terms of it's history. It is becoming sacred and cleansing to understand my food and where it came from, and then lovingly prepare it for me and my family.

Well, I must be off to Trader Joe's to get some corn and other produce for the rest of the day's recipes. Up next for lunch: Coconut Corn Soup, raw cheese and crackers, and spritzer or purchased kombucha

Another Guest Post over at The Exponent

You can read my second guest post over at The Exponent here. The first one I did last year is here.

Tyler Perry

I just read on Salon and on Shakesville about Tyler Perry's experiences with sexual abuse. Tyler Perry apparently told his story of abuse on his website [trigger warning]. It is heartbreaking and triggering but deserves to be read and faced. I hope that more and more people will tell their stories and bring light to all kinds of abuse that happen around us every day. I pray that Mr. Perry will find peace in sharing his story, and maybe even a little healing.

I have also read how CNN covered the story and referred to his abuse at the hands of a female neighbor "seduction". A 10-year-old cannot be "seduced". And for that matter a 10-year-old cannot "have sex". They can be forced. They can be raped. Period. Downplaying rape and abuse is wrong. Call it what it is. In fact, if you are so inclined, call or email CNN and tell them you are disappointed in their coverage.

I was sexually abused. I wasn't seduced. I was a victim. I wasn't asking for it in some way.

Rape Reasoning

(trigger warning)

I have been pondering rape fear lately. I have pondered the way rape victims seem to be blamed for being promiscuous, in the wrong place, asking for it, or downright stupid. Shouldn't the blame, again, be squarely on the shoulders of...oh I don't know, the perpetrators? I have realized that my beef with victim-blaming in sexual abuse situations like my own, very closely coincides with how many rape victims feel and are treated. I want to speak out against victim-blaming. Victims: it is NOT your fault. Predators: it IS your fault. I do not care how many people have told you that it is understandable that you would be tempted to rape someone. You are to blame, solely.

I love reading Shakesville. It is my favorite feminist/equal rights/progressive blog to read. Melissa McEwan wrote today about rape and it resonated with me so strongly that I had to link to it from here. Enjoy.

Guest Post on The Exponent

I have made my Bloggernacle debut! Today I was able to provide a guest post on The Exponent blog. I have crossposted it here, but you should really check it out on the other site in case the comments get going. Plus, I love that blog. I am lucky to have a voice there.

How Well Does the Church Handle Abuse?

It took me until I was 18 and had moved out of my house to finally wander my way into the Counseling Center at BYU. I was having trouble in school, trouble sleeping, general anxiety. There began my awakening to what I was. I was abused as a child. I finally spoke the words aloud. I was broken. I was a victim.

The first time I told someone about my sexual abuse it was to my therapist at BYU. I was 19 by then. Through therapy I gradually put names on the abuse: physical, emotional, sexual, and spiritual. The sexual abuse took the forefront. I look back now and am shocked that my therapist did not insist on calling the police or a social worker when I told her. I was convinced that I was the only victim. But she knew that I had younger siblings still living at home. She knew that my father was the perpetrator. She knew that statistically it had probably happened to more of my siblings. I wish she had done something. Admitting that I came from an abusive family was so new to me at the time. I did not feel comfortable navigating those waters. I definitely did not have the guts to blow the whistle on my father. I did not even know that I should have blown the whistle on my father, that my siblings were in probable danger. A social worker or police officer should have been notified. My father should have been stopped.

That same year I told my bishop. His response was "How old were you when it happened?" I told him I was 8 years old. "Wasn't that a long time ago? I don't think you need to break up your family over this when you can deal with it through therapy." Then he asked "How old are your other siblings?" I told him I was the oldest of five and four of us were female. He asked whether I thought anyone else in the family had been abused. At that time, I honestly thought I was the only one, so I told him that. He restated that I did not need to tell anyone except my therapist. My younger sister was eleven at the time. At that point she had been abused for about three years.

I was sexually abused for about one year when I was in second grade and then it stopped. That was plenty. Once is enough to do all kinds of damage. In contrast, my younger sister endured 9 years of sexual abuse by the time my father was arrested. 9 YEARS. This kills me. It kills me not only because of the quantitative amount, but because it could have been stopped. I found out during the ninth year.

Once I learned of my sister's abuse I went to my bishop at the time, in Michigan. I was 25 by then, pregnant with my first child, and had several years of therapy under my belt. My bishop's response was so different. He told me he was bound by not only by Michigan law to call the police and report it, but also needed to call the Church hotline for legal advice on how to proceed. He advised that we call my parent's bishop and tell him what was going on. Surprisingly, that bishop was also very supportive of calling the police. Both bishops explained very gently that I was encouraged to be the one to call the local police in California and give a statement to an officer. They said that if I did not feel able, that they could give the statement for me, but it would be harder to prosecute my father and get my younger siblings into a safe environment.

I suspect that in the six intermediate years between talking to my BYU bishop and my Michigan bishop there was a change (shift?) in Church policy. I think they probably give bishops better instruction on what to do with abusers and victims. It sounds like bishops have Church leaders to call for advice. These are good steps, but I must be honest: it is not nearly enough. What about a hotline for the victims? What about bishops automatically providing therapy, instead of waiting for victims to ask? What about having stricter whistle-blowing policies, to protect further victims?

I cannot help but be cynical when the only time the Church seems to actively support calling the police is when children are still living at home and/or the abuser is still abusing. Abusers need to face the law and Church discipline, no matter if their victims live at home or not and no matter if they have "stopped". It sends a message to victims that they are inherently less important and undervalued when abusers do not have to pay for their crime. Victims have no choice but to pay for what happened to them.

I am an abuse survivor. Over the last four years since I learned of my sister I have been increasingly more open about it. So I find myself here at The Exponent reaching out to other women and men to tell a part of my story. For a more in personal account of my experiences, you can read my personal blog: kmillecam.blogspot.com. It is my priority there and in my life to openly discuss the effects of abuse. The truth will set us all free.

Spiritual Abuse (Part Two)

I should clarify: the spiritual abuse characteristics list in my previous post were a summary taken from the Mormon Alliance website and based on the book by David Johnson and Jeff VanVonderen called The Subtle Power of Spiritual Abuse: Recognizing and Escaping Spiritual Manipulation and False Spiritual Authority Within the Church. I am purchasing it at some point to read entirely.

Spiritual Abuse

Thanks to a friend for sending me to the Mormon Alliance website where I found this helpful description of spiritual abuse. I want to be specific: I am thinking of my home life in particular when I read this. Parsing out how this happens in wards is not something I want to tackle right now.

CHARACTERISTICS

1. In a spiritually abusive system, "the most important thing is how things look" (Johnson and VanVonderen 31). Johnson and VanVonderen tell of a pastoral ministries course offered at a Bible college where a young pastor-to-be was taught that his wife and children should address him in public as "Pastor." To maintain "pastoral dignity," he should always appear in his suit in public, even if it meant changing out of work clothes to run to the auto parts store. He should route the church telephone to his home and answer it "First Christian Church" to create the impression that he was constantly at church. When sitting on the platform at church, he must always wear proper socks and never cross his legs in a way that revealed the soles of his shoes. "Reveal your soul," he was told, "never your soles." Another instruction was about his voice: "When you ascend the platform, remember—you are the voice of God. Sound like it" (131).

2. Another characteristic of a spiritually abusive system is that its leaders require the place of honor. "Unhealthy, authoritarian leadership encourages people to place their pastors on pedestals" (Enroth 81). "It is our belief," write Johnson and VanVonderen, "that the less secure a leader is, the more important titles will be to him or her." Such leaders project the image of spirituality, require the recognition of people, and "point to themselves as the primary source of knowledge, direction, authority, and life" (134, 136).
   Not only will spiritually abusive leaders demand honor, claim Johnson and VanVonderen, they may actually insist that others deny reality to maintain their authority: "Members have to deny any thought, opinion or feeling that is different than those of people in authority. Anything that has the potential to shame those in authority is ignored or denied"; in other words, "The system defines reality" (58).

3. Spiritually abusive leaders invoke their position to enforce their decisions. "Because I’m the pastor, that’s why!" "Are you questioning my authority?" "Don’t be a troublemaker." "Submit to your elder." Such phrases are symptomatic of "false authority" (112). Johnson and VanVonderen identify two characteristics of false authority: first, the leaders take authority rather than receiving it from God. And second, their authority rests not upon wisdom, discernment, or truth, but solely upon their position or rank—they are to be obeyed because they are in charge.

4. Spiritually abusive systems encourage "misplaced loyalty": loyalty to Christ is transformed into loyalty to a leader or a church. Conversely, "disloyalty to or disagreement with the leadership is equated with disobeying God. Questioning leaders is equal to questioning God. After all, the leader is the authority, and authority is always right" (76). Enroth asserts that abusive leaders "consciously foster an unhealthy form of dependency, spiritually and interpersonally, by focusing on themes of submission, loyalty, and obedience to those in authority" (103).
   This misplaced loyalty is cultivated by three methods. First, "leadership projects a ‘we alone are right’ mentality, which permeates the system." Second, leaders use "scare tactics" to bolster misplaced loyalty, perhaps telling departing members that "God is going to withdraw His Spirit from you and your family" or "God will destroy your business." And third, "you can be ‘exposed’ for asking too many questions, for disobeying unspoken rules, or for disagreeing with authority. People are made public examples to send a message to those who remain" (Johnson and VanVonderen 76-78).

5. An extremely important characteristic of spiritually abusive systems is legalism. Legalism focuses on achieving righteousness through the performance of required behaviors and the avoidance of proscribed ones. People earn salvation through their human works. Johnson and VanVonderen warn against any spiritual system "in which the leaders or teachers add the performance of religious behaviors to the performance of Jesus on the cross as the means to find God’s approval" (36). In such a system, members must earn love and acceptance by obeying rules.
   Johnson and VanVonderen tell of a Christian conference in which the attenders were given formulas for achieving "a nice, packaged, orderly Christian life." Those who successfully completed the course—mostly the naturally disciplined, strong-willed people—were permitted to attend an "advanced seminar." And the others? The speaker told the audience, "If you follow these principles and they don’t work, call me and tell me about it. You need to know, though, that you’ll be the first one for whom they didn’t" (44). Thus, anyone who questions the system runs an enormous risk of being labeled "unrighteous."
   Legalism spawns a preoccupation with fault and blame. In the New Testament the purpose of confession is to receive forgiveness and cleansing; the spiritually abusive system demands confession "to know whom to shame—that is, whom to make feel so defective and humiliated that they won’t act that way anymore" (Johnson and VanVonderen 58).
   Christians who trust the grace of Christ for salvation threaten a legalistic structure, since "living with Jesus as your only source of life and acceptance is a confrontation to those who seek God’s approval on the basis of their own religious behavior" (Johnson and VanVonderen 37).
   Abusive leaders favor legalism for a number of reasons: busy and apparently righteous adherents make them look good; a legalistic system allows them to examine others instead of themselves; and they gain a sense of validation from the good works of their followers (Johnson and VanVonderen 37). Of course, despite such self-interested motives, these leaders’ demands are "cloaked in the language of being holy and helping others to live holy lives" (ibid).

6. Spiritually abusive systems are characterized by deception, or what Johnson and VanVonderen call "double-talk." People are told "they are not spiritual enough to understand teachings or decisions of the leaders. The leaders sound pious enough, even spiritual. But we are left with the vague sense that something is missing. They will give you the ‘right’ answer, but rarely will you get the ‘real’ answer. Everything has a double meaning" (126). In conversation, receiving a straight answer requires a precisely phrased question.

7. Manipulation is the life-blood of abusive systems. The most powerful of the manipulative techniques is enforced silence, or what Johnson and VanVonderen call the "can’t-talk" rule: "If you speak about the problem out loud, you are the problem" (68). Those who speak out may be accused of being unloving, unspiritual, or un-Christian (ibid.). Enroth described one sect that, when confronted with its own wrong teachings, will "attack the character and life of the questioner by claiming that he has ‘sin in his life.’ Such terms as ‘prideful,’ ‘independent spirit,’ and ‘rebellious’ are used in answer to the inquirer" (117).
   Scripture may even be invoked in the service of such abusive tactics. Thus, Hebrews 13:17, which counsels to "obey your leaders, and submit to them," is "stripped of its spirit and translated legalistically to mean, ‘Don’t think, don’t discern, don’t question, and don’t notice problems.’ If you do, you will be labeled as unsubmissive, unspiritual, and divisive" (Johnson and VanVonderen 171). Another frequently used scripture is Matthew 18:21-22, where the Lord tells Peter he must forgive "up to seventy times seven." This verse may be turned against an abuse victim with the courage to speak up. Instead of addressing the problem, the leader makes the member the problem: "What’s wrong with you that you can’t forgive?" (Johnson and VanVonderen 100). Thus, "truth is suppressed in the name of spirituality" and "the code of silence is enforced with God’s own Word" (Johnson and VanVonderen 94).
   Another manipulative technique is the existence of unspoken rules. Johnson and VanVonderen observe that no one would ever say out loud, "You know we must never disagree with the pastor on his sermons—and if you do you will never be trusted and never be allowed to minister in any capacity in this church" (67). This is because "examining [the statement] in the light of mature dialogue would instantly reveal how illogical, unhealthy and anti-Christian [it is]" (ibid.). Yet the rule is subtly enforced.
   Another manipulative technique is coding, the use of circuitous or euphemistic verbal formulations to avoid uncomfortable realities. Another is triangulation (they call it "triangling"), the use of intermediaries to deliver messages or directives to insulate the leader from the member’s response (Johnson and VanVonderen 57).

8. Finally, spiritually abusive systems are secretive. "When you see people in a religious system being secretive—watch out. People don’t hide what is appropriate; they hide what is inappropriate" (Johnson and VanVonderen 78). Johnson and VanVonderen report the following comment from a "wounded" Christian: "Quite a number of us wanted more information about how church finances were being spent. We wanted to know if more money could go into direct ministries, benevolences, things like that. When I asked some questions at an elders’ meeting—boy did the room get icy. Later I was told to stop trying to create a faction in the church" (21). There are two reasons for the secrecy: Leaders feel that they must protect the image of the organization so outsiders will think well of it, thus making themselves "God’s ‘public relations’ agents"; and leaders condescend to members: They tell themselves, "People are not mature enough to handle truth" (78).
   As a result, abusive systems abhor outside news media. According to Enroth, "Criticism, whether its source is Christian or secular, sincere or superficial, is always viewed by fringe churches as an ‘attack’" (164).

Residual Shame

I had an intense flashback to my abuse 2 days ago. It does not happen too often for which I am grateful, but when it does I try to keep my wits as best as possible. It was kinda funny/frustrating at first: M peed in the kitchen sink! He was going to wash his hands but when he turned the water on it made him have to go suddenly. So instead of having an accident he went in the sink. He was trying to be responsible, poor thing.

And how did I handle it? I said something to the effect of "that's gross/disgusting". I immediately saw how guilty he looked and how genuinely sorry he was. The most unnerving part was that he looked embarrassed. As I realized that he was trying solve a problem in an emergency and got yelled at anyway, I was yanked back to my childhood. I automatically worried that he was feeling like he was dirty or gross because of what I said. I was seized with fear thinking that I was putting my same issues that I dealt with right onto his shoulders to be repeated.

When I flashed back I remembered being shamed about my body growing up. There were times when I was shamed for eating because I was a chubby kid. There were times when I was shamed for not being clean and/or ladylike. This was usually a vicious cycle: I would forget to shower/brush teeth because I did not feel worthy of taking care of my body (probably from the sexual abuse), and then I would receive more shaming from my parents to be clean. I think it was for my mother's need to fit in as a perfect mother, so I did not stand out to other people as having problems. There were many times when I was very aware of how embarrassed my parents were to have such an awkward, overly sensitive, emotional child.

There was spiritual abuse from my mother: never have any desire to sin or you are "bad". And there was the emotional abuse from my mother: why are you kids acting like "A" when you know it makes me sad and depressed? The physical abuse from my father and mother: really angry spanking, throwing, yelling, sometimes slapping. And finally the sexual abuse at the hands of my father. I talk of all these abuses intertwining because that is the messy reality. I had a therapist say once that sexual abuse is symptom of many other problems. Clearly, this was the case in my family. The bottom line: I was ashamed of my body, among other things.

So after this M-and-sink incident, I sort of emotionally froze for the next day. It was a funny story, and I joked about it with people. I could even laugh about it. But in the back of my mind I kept regretting the way I handled it. I should have calmly explained instead of shaming M about his body. You see, M is very similar to me in many ways. I was a very sensitive child (as was R, so M never had a chance!), and would internalize many things. When I see M get embarrassed in his life, my knee jerk reaction is to address it and try to help him understand. I do not want him to carry unhealthy feelings about his body. He should have healthy understanding of how bodies work. All joking aside, peeing in the sink is not really that big of a deal. A simple explanation of how pee has germs and needs to go in the potty would have solved future incidents.

As I worked through my feelings that day I realized several things: I realized that regular childhood embarrassments are not the end of the world. M is experiencing the ups and downs of growing up, not abuse on all sides like I did. M just needs to know that I love him, and that I will try my best to help him. He will get embarrassed sometimes, and that is normal. Also, I was reminded that it is pointless to try and avoid embarrassment in life. It WILL happen. The best anyone can do is to work it out when it does happen. Finally, I realized that I should think and talk these things through. It is the only way to free yourself from them. It is painful, but necessary (for me.) So I eventually talked to R and admitted all the horrible scenes I was reliving. He reassured me that I am not my parents, and that M is not doomed to repeat my fate.

I tell this story to illustrate two things: (1) That the ripples of abuse can be very far-reaching, both into the future and deep into a survivor's psyche. Let this make abusers aware of the irreversible consequences of their actions. (2) Let this also make survivors aware of how important it is to be armed with tools from therapy. When I flashed back I knew to calmly face my demons until they had no power left. It took me a good full day, but I worked it out. I also talked to R and felt much better. You could also revisit a therapist if needed. I may make an appointment if I have any more flashbacks in the next few days.

Anger/Forgiveness

(I do not want to out any of my siblings here on my blog. They were victims of my parents in their own ways, and they can tell their stories on their own terms. I will only talk about my experiences.)

When the sexual abuse issue came to light in my family, it was not pretty. I had never told anyone in my family, only my therapists and R and a few of my roommates. In fact, the sexual abuse was a secret until 4 years ago. I remember, because I was prego with M when it all hit the fan. After sitting on the information for a few months, R and I decided that we needed to call the police and have them arrest my dad. My bishop in Michigan at the time agreed, as did the bishop of my family in California. Those are the logistics of the situation. One fine day everything fell into place and I felt ready to call. So I did.

My dad was arrested and the rest of the family that did not already know found out. My dad was sentenced a few months later to a year of house arrest and 5 tears probation. The state also had a restraining order put on him in my behalf, which I did not appreciate at the time but have come to be thankful for. The church disfellowshipped him. (An aside: do I think that a child abuser deserves to be excommunicated? Yes. In every case. If you are truly repentant, then you can get rebaptized later. After you do a bunch of soul searching and apologizing and therapy and making-it-right. I will rant about this some other time.)

I found this process cathartic. After so many years it was finally out. My siblings knew about what I had gone through, and it brought us closer over time. My aunts and uncles and cousins and grandparents finally knew, and said they loved me.

However, my mother insisted that we all work on forgiving my dad. She pushed me hard. And I automatically pushed back. I realized something then. You do not have to talk to your abuser to forgive them. You do not have to be around your abuser to forgive them. You do not have to like your abuser to forgive them. I then saw with more clarity how I was, at that very moment, being emotionally abused by my mother as well.

But now I was armed with this knowledge. I did not have to talk to my mom either. Our conversations were nothing but emotional blackmail to get me to be around her and my dad and reassure them that what they had done was understandable. My mom would try and shame me with church-type arguments: don't you think it's time to forgive and not be angry? She would bully me into speaking to my father, before I was ready, even when I said no repeatedly. I started piecing together the depth of her enabling my father and manipulation of, well, everyone. It made me so angry. The anger was an important piece.

I have decided not to speak to my parents anymore. I will save the story of how that happened for another post. Ultimately it came down to this: I was trying to grow, change, move through the pain, go to therapy, make good boundaries, and to be aware of how I was feeling, to acknowledge it and embrace it. But my parents wanted validation for what had happened as if to say "I know I abused you, but you have to understand where I am coming from too". Do I?

Now we are back to the anger. In my opinion, until you get really, consumingly mad you cannot move to forgiveness. Believe me, I tried. I tried forgiving before I admitted I was angry and betrayed and broken. Between my crappy home life and the Mormon culture I grew up in, I got a clear message: anger is bad, anger doesn't help. Wrong! Anger is what it is. Anger is a part of the process. Anger is a part that is just as valid and necessary as the forgiveness part.

I also like to remember that anger is a secondary emotion. You get angry because of something else: hurt, pain, sadness, etc. The anger is your indication of something deeper going on. And then, if you embrace the anger and revel in it, you can fully appreciate when you are no longer angry. You should feel angry if you are abused. Embrace it.

I read a book called Toxic Parents by Susan Forward. It encouraged writing letters to your abusers, whether you sent them or not. The meaningful part was the writing. I have my angry letter. I wrote it over several months time, and I still sometimes reread it. I have some semblance of forgiveness for my parents now. It has taken 4 years. And it isn't finished. And if it took 20 years that would be okay too. Anger first, forgiveness later. Real forgiveness.

Fear

By the telling of my story, I hope to free anyone reading from some kind of abuse-related fear. You might fear of telling about or facing your own abuse. You might fear victims because you are unsure of what to say or how to act. You might fear of hearing about abuse, because you have children and you worry about them. You might fear for yourself in the future if it ever happens to you. Fear is something to move past. Talking about abuse, facing abuse, sifting through the wreckage of abuse is what forces fear out. The truth will set you free.

If you are one of those people who has not been through abuse, but would like to know how to talk to a survivor, then please visit some of these websites. Of course, if you are a victim, then please visit these sites as well, but please seek professional help if you can.

I was abused sexually a handful of times when I was in elementary school. My father was the perpetrator. My mother never saw it. However, my mother was depressed and unable to take care of me and my siblings. She depended on her children to emotionally to take care of her. The stress of the role reversal (feeling like I had to take care of my mother at the age of 5), left me feeling different. The sexual abuse that happened a few years later (I was 8 or so), only solidified my solitary nature. This was difficult as a child, and I look back now realizing that it was adding insult to injury to be abused on top of being pretty sensitive to begin with. I would have had difficulties with my extreme sensitivity even if I had nurturing, helpful parents who were not caught up in their own problems.

My sexual abuse may not be comparatively bad, but as they say "once is enough". Regardless, it gave me classic abuse victim problems. I did not trust people. I was sexually confused. I was depressed, but also experienced extreme highs. I gained weight to protect myself. I would dissociate in painful situations. The list goes on. Becoming aware of the symptoms was my first step. Then I could see what was causing those symptoms: my unresolved abuse. Admitting that what happened was "abuse" was my next step.

Arguably, that was the biggest step I ever took. It started me down the path of facing my problems instead of running from them. If anything has happened to you that you think might be abuse, try to face it. You are not alone. I will talk to you, and I will accept you.

Abuse

I have become empowered my friends. Most of my family and friends already know that I was sexually abused as a child by my father. They may or may not know that I was also physically abused by both my mother and my father. Though it is hard to put a finger on (because it is not a 'physical' thing), my mother and father were also both emotionally abusive. You may or may not have known that part either. But I have become empowered.

I am going to talk about something difficult, even though you all may not want to think about it, or hear about it, or read about it on my blog. It's not funny, or witty, or entertaining. It is real. I have come to the realization that if I do not talk about abuse, then it is not dealt with by humanity at large. The people I know do not know a HUGE part of who I am: an abuse survivor. It is as if I am apologizing for being abused if I don't talk about it, and it was not my fault that I was. So I will talk about it. I will talk about the reality of abuse (it happens all the time). I will talk about the consequences and how they ripple through my life. I will talk about how I move through the pain. How the truth sets me free. I will not talk about it all right now, but in general from now on on my blog. Fair warning.